


En Pointe

by SimplySydney



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, F/M, M/M, alex and eliza never date just dance, alex has self esteem issues, alex x angie is referenced, john is a gift from god, lots of subplot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-05-30 20:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6440191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplySydney/pseuds/SimplySydney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex overworks himself to the point where he's in the ballet studio almost 24/7. John and Eliza are very worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Low

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Camp Nano, so updates are each about 1000-2000 words.

“Alex! Straighten your leg!” He followed the order as his hands remained above his head. A girl next to him giggled as he struggled to keep up with the speed of the recital number. John turned to flash a prize winning smile.

“John, you too! Do you want to run laps?” Their instructor barked, and John went back to his perfect form, arms splayed out from his torso like wings. They continued to run through their dance, Elizabeth’s gentle hand placed in Alex’s as she twirled gracefully along side him.  
Alex was yelled at a few more times by their instructor before he went right back into rehearsal, dancing just as strong.

“Don’t forget!” Shouted their instructor. “Auditions for solos will be tomorrow! Have a piece prepared, as well as the motivation to learn another one tomorrow, that will be your true audition.” Alex had been a principal soloist in almost every production except for the previous, John had stolen that from him. But, Alex and Eliza planned to audition together, their dance styles matched well, so they tried to be partnered in almost every dance they could be.

As the two sat next to each other in between rehearsals, massaging their ankles, Alexander began to complain.

“I’m so lanky.” He said to the girl. “My legs will never move quite as gracefully as everyone else’s.”

“I disagree. You’re plenty graceful. You just feel less graceful because you’re so lanky.” Elizabeth fixed the bobby pins in her hair as she searched through her bag for pointe shoes with the other. Alex fixed his hair as well, tightening the ponytail behind his head.

Pointe Method was a bore, and his feet were already aching beyond repair due to his constant audition prep. He didn’t have the motivation for anymore ballet that day. So, rather than putting on his own shoes he made his way over to John, who was intent on finishing the current class he was in so that he too could take Pointe Method. Alex was sure that it was most likely so that he could “catch up” to himself. Alex wasn’t sure why John would be so focused on beating him, out, though. He wasn’t even that great of a dancer, and he was only taking Pointe Method because Mrs. Washington wanted her male lead to be able to seem as light and airy as his female counterpart. So he had to buy new shoes.

“Can you help me with that turn at the end of our ensemble?” John looked up from his feet, which were precariously positioned in a way that couldn’t have been anything but uncomfortable. John laughed.

“You can’t be serious.” Alex nodded. He was serious about anything that got him out of pointe work. “Alex, you choreographed the turn.”

“Yeah, but I like the way you dance it better.” Both statements were true. He did, in fact, create the turn, and he did, in fact, like how John danced it better. He watched John move his feet in a way that Alex had only dreamed to accomplish, and attempted to follow him with the same grace. When he had repeated it five times in a row, he bumped into John, who had stopped. So much for grace.

Just then Alex looked at the clock. He had one minute to put on pointe shoes before class began. Ms Washington would not be proud of him if she arrived from her own break and he was still tying ribbons around his ankles. He scurried over to where his stuff sat while John was still laughing, and he slipped on the white fabric of his shoes, quickly tying a knot in each of the ribbons and testing out his feet's willingness to perform that day on the barre behind him. He went to talk to John, to apologize for running away from him ,but he was already gone, left as he saw Ms. Washington arrive.

Alex's feet felt like hell and he wasn't sure he would be able to make the extra 45 minutes of class he had left. But as he stood on the barre, getting his technique ready for solo and ensemble, his feet hurt. He stood en pointe in first position, ready for whatever exercises were to be barked at him. Instead, he received a different command.

"Alex, come with me please." He followed Ms, Washington to her office, while the other six dancer in the class dropped down from the tips of their feet to the floor. "I have something I need to tell you about the show." She said to him "something about the male lead." Alex nodded. She continued talking "John wants it. But I don't want to give it to him. He can already dance en pointe, which is why he isn't taking the class with you." Of course John could already dance like that. Of course he would want the lead. Alex hadn't considered that maybe he wasn't the only male dancer after all.

"Why are you telling me this?" Said Alex, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"Because, I believe that you are a stronger dancer than him. I just don't know how far his pointe technique is developed, though, so I'm warning you that he may be a tough nut to crack." Alex groaned quietly. "But I also believe you're well rehearsed, Alex. If anyone can beat him, you can." And with her final words of encouragement, the two left the office.

There were two other male dancers in the Pointe Method class, meaning they were one extra female away from being split 50/50. "Alright." Ms Washington spoke to the other dancers. "Today I want all males to go with my husband, George. He will be working with you on solo development and learn some new routines. I want both Pointe Method classes to do a show together, which means you seven will be dancing with the younger children."

Alex would be the first to admit he loved dancing with kids below his own age- especially the good ones. Sure, you had to be at least twelve to take pointe classes, meaning the kids Martha was talking about were only about four years younger than him. Elizabeth flashed him a smile from across the room as he exited with the other men into a different studio.

Mr. Washington stood in front of him. "So, these are my three solo contenders, huh?" The other two boys nodded but Alex stood there, trying not to think about John. The four men went through the new routine for the younger pointe kids, practicing turns and arm placement. At the end of the class, Mr. Washington asked the boys to go through their audition dance.

When the other two boys danced, he complimented them and told them what to fix. Then it was Alex’s turn.

Although his ankles felt a little better after the rest, he was still shaky as he stood. He stood at the corner of the room before he nodded to one of the other boys to hit the music. As it began, he took a deep breath and danced. He tried his best to make it seem effortless, as if he wasn’t struggling to simply stay standing. His ankles nearly gave out on him multiple times, but he forced himself to keep going. When he was done, he stood there, shaking and breathing heavily. He went to sit back down stumbling a few times.

“That was… amazing.” Said Mr. Washington. “You’ve really just started dancing en pointe?” Alex nodded, still struggling to breathe. “Well the only thing I can think of is to open your chest more. There were a couple spots where you started closing in on yourself. You fixed it quickly, but if you’re very open at the beginning then that won’t be an issue.

“O-oh. Thank you.” Mr. Washington nodded before dismissing them. Alex took off his slippers before even leaving the room, seeing small bruises beginning to form around his ankles. As he walked back into the other studio to grab his things, he saw Elizabeth walking out the door.

“Elizabeth!” He called. “Wait!” The girl turned around to look at him, and met him at his bag.

“What’s up?” She said. “I was just getting ready to leave.”

“Can you drive me home?” He asked quickly. “I don’t think that I have the strength to walk myself.” She looked at him and nodded.

“Okay.” She said. The two walked out of the studio and down the stairs outside, down to the parking lot. As the two made it to the car, Alex collapsed off his shaky legs.

“Fuck!” He cried, but Elizabeth was silent with sorrowful eyes as he pulled himself into the passenger seat of her car. She knew better than to try and help him, he would only deny anything was wrong. He lived half a mile in the opposite direction of her house, but she drove him home anyway because she knew that he would only ask her to if he really needed it. Usually he would walk home, but Elizabeth had seen many days in the past few weeks where he was simply overworked, too tired and weak to make it home himself. She was always willing to drive him home especially since she knew what happened to his father. She turned left onto his street, and she dropped him off in front of his house in silence. He stumbled as he got out of the car.

“Do you want me to walk you inside?” She asked him, already knowing the answer even before he turned around and glared at her.

“No.” He said, and began limping inside of the house, not turning around to look at her even once. She waited until he was in his house before driving off. She waited until she turned back onto the highway to start crying. She was still crying as she made her way into her own driveway, parking in front of her larger house. Up in her bedroom, she sat down at her white desk. The purple flowers on her desk were still looking fresh, despite being picked almost a week ago. She looked at the photo of her and Alex in the silver frame. They were in their costumes from two shows ago, the last show before John joined the company. Alex had his arm around her as she pulled him into her side and they both were smiling. That was when they were still freshman, before college became a worry.

But now, they were both applying for schools, and Alex was desperately working towards a scholarship. If she was being honest, Alex really didn’t need to practice even half as much as he did. She opened her laptop and sent him a few photos she found funny before texting him, hoping to lift her own spirits.

> **E-zilla: Hey. Party tomorrow night. :)))))**  
>  **AHamsammich: ….where**  
>  **E-zilla: My place. 8. You can just come over after auditions tho**

From in front of his computer, Alex let out a sigh. Tomorrow he would audition, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about his dance anymore. He sent another text.

> **AHamsammich: will there be booze**  
>  **E-zilla: If Angie has anything to do with it.**  
>  **AHamsammicg: im in**.

He sat back in his chair, looking through the photos she had sent him prior. He looked all the way through the photos they had sent, laughing at some, smiling at others. His favorite photo was of Elizabeth, Angelica, and himself. They all had arms around one another after seeing The Nutcracker. He unplugged his laptop from it’s charger and walked over to his bed, petting the dog He re-opened his computer and began to keep working on a History speech, typing up words that he knew he would edit out later. Soon, he drifted off to sleep worrying his solo and and fantasizing about the party.


	2. Ice Cream $hop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is sad and also goes to school.

    The next morning he woke up at four. His first instinct was to head to the studio and practice, but he knew better on audition day. If he went and practiced now, he's psych himself out. He knew better than that. Instead, he worked on a history speech, typing away on his laptop about apartheid. He got about a page done by 5, and by then decided to do something else. The only problem being he didn't know what he wanted to get done. So, he opened his email and scrolled through, checking his horoscope and watching his daily technique video. He loved how the instructor danced his entire body seeming to feel the emotion in the music. He hoped that his audition looked like that.

    He was trying so hard to avoid worrying about his audition. Mr. Washington had obviously loved it, so there couldn't have been too much to worry about, right? Except, John was always in the back of his mind, laughing at him. He closed the tab and went back to his inbox.

    Almost all of the content sitting there was just junk, coupons for free knitting patterns, or school assignments. But, one email that caught his eye was from someone interesting. His old grief counselor from when he was twelve, when his mother died. He opened the email nervously, he didn’t have the money to start sessions up again. The only thing in the email was a link, which he opened quickly. A large, multi-color ad appeared on the screen in front of him. "Free Drivers-Ed classes! Hop behind the wheel and get ready for the time of your life!" He let out a breath. Of course. The woman who helped Alex after the death of his mother once again recommending that he get the fuck over it.   

    When he was 12, his mother was pregnant with a little sister. While Alex had been over at the Schuyler's mansion, she had gone into labor. He called Elizabeth's dad, who then drove the boy to the hospital. She had carried the baby to term, so nothing could have possibly been wrong. But yet, his mother was alone. She only had herself as she drove all the way to the hospital by herself, and maybe that was why she was in such a hurry to get there. So that she wouldn't be alone.

    As she drove, she had run a red light since she was in such a hurry. She hadn't seen anyone at the intersection, so she just kept driving. But there was a driver. He was far enough back that he could have stopped the car before he hit her. But he didn't. He was drunk. He just kept driving, all the way through the intersection. And he hit his mother, t-boned her car on the intersection of the 124 and the 332.

    He still remembers sitting in the maternity ward with Angie and her father next to him. He remembers seeing his mother pass through, not in a wheelchair, clutching her stomach, but on a gurney, being pushed all the way to an operating room. He remembers crying as they told Phillip the news- Alex's mother was dead, and his little sister barely survived- they were doing everything they could to keep her with them, but oh, how he wished he could forget.

    Alex looked at the ad, crying. He didn't want to drive, not after what happened to his mother. Phillip had tried to get him to learn while he was still living with the Schuyler's, but he refused. He had Elizabeth to drive him everywhere.

    Because his father was nowhere to be found, Phillip, being the closest family friend in both distance and emotion, got to make the choice- where would the baby go? With him, he decided. The little girl would be raised as a Schuyler. And so the Schuyler sisters went from two to three, and with a lot of begging from the two eldest girls, Alex became an honorary Schuyler sister until he was a legal adult.

    Five years later, Margaret Schuyler was crying as Alexander left the house to move back into his childhood home- which Phillip Schuyler technically owned. For the first few weeks, the Schuyler sisters were constantly in and out, staying in the guest bedroom (or at least two of them did). But as time went on, they were at his house less and less, coping with the fact that Alexander wasn't their brother, and that didn't live with them anymore. So now Alex was stressed as he got ready to enter his senior year of high school, and to turn 18. Also, there was college looming over his head..he couldn’t let Phillip pay his tuition, could he? Even then, how would he get into a good school? Here were so many questions about his future that his only focus was now. It’s the only thing that could be his focus. So he did his best not to think about the past, to only consider the present. After all, what use would it be to try and create a future for himself when he was more focused on history?

    He forced himself to swallow the bile in his throat and rose from his bed, walking downstairs to make breakfast. By then, it was already 5:30, way too early to eat without bringing a snack for school. So he forced himself to make a big lunch, knowing that he'll most likely regret all the food by the time auditions rolled around. He made grits that morning, with lots of butter. His favorite breakfast. Of course, he could never quite get the seasoning right. That was something he always struggled with.

    As he sat eating his grits, he pondered his audition later that day. He found that it would probably be better for his brain if he didn't think about it that way he wouldn't have to worry, right? Right. He flicked on the TV and watched the news, forcing himself to be interested in the weather and local sports teams. But his mind kept drifting. He decided that he should probably keep a planner, with all he had to do that day. With the audition and the presentation and...the party! He had completely forgotten. A Schuyler party- he hadn't been to one of those in awhile. He set the grits down and went upstairs to find his laptop, opening it to IM Elizabeth, whom he knew was always awake at ungodly hours such as five am.

 

> **Ahamsammich: i can’t sleep**
> 
> **E-zilla: u dummy**
> 
> **Ahamsammich: thx**
> 
> **Ahamsammich: i think it’s nerves**
> 
> **E-zilla: ALEX, YOU’RE A 11/10 DANCER. SHUT UP ABOUT THE AUDITION AND**
> 
> **E-zilla: GO BACK TO BED.**
> 
>  

    After her declaration, he felt much better. He had no reason to worry about the party, or about his audition- they were both things that would come and go. No big deal. He kept telling himself that. No big deal. He breathed in and out, trying to steady his breaths. He turned the TV up louder before going upstairs to get ready for school. Alexander Hamilton- the epitome of fashion, of course. He shook his head as he searched through his drawers. He considered a cardigan but decided it would probably be too hot. But, he could always roll up the sleeves. That would be cool, right? The cool kids roll up their sleeves.

    Maybe they roll up their sleeves, he thought, but they don't wear maroon cardigans. He put it back into his closet and kept looking.

    By the time he arrived to school, wearing the cardigan, Elizabeth was walking across the street, coming towards him from the elementary school. He leaned up against a post waiting for her beneath the breezeway. "Well, if it isn't my favorite Alexander."

    He stood back up and laughed. "Yup that's me, everyone's favorite hooligan." The two began to walk towards the school, but none other than John raced between the two bodies and into the main hall. Alex gulped at the sight of him.

    "Don't worry about him." Shrugged Elizabeth. "I've seen his technique. If I had to dance with him like that I'd be struggling through."

    "Good to know, I guess."

    "You bet it is! Anyway, let's get to class." Alex followed her through the main hall and to his locker. He gathered his books and got ready to slam his locker before he stopped. The photo of himself with Elizabeth and Angie caught his eye. Man, he thought, we all looked so happy then. What had happened between then and now? Too much, Alexander decided. Most certainly way too much.

    The school day dragged on until lunch. Alex's only fun classes were after lunch. Before that, all he had was history and biology to bore himself with. But after lunch, he had math and English, both of which he adored. Sure, history was fun to learn about, but he was horrible at remembering dates. Some teachers knew how to make it fun, but others knew how to drone on and on about video games and still make it horribly boring, So he sat there all morning in the classroom, struggling through other history presentations, wanting something to do but not having the nerve to say “Hey! Me next!” And so he sat, bored out of his mind by James Monroe and mesmerized by Maria’s hair until the bell rang.

    “Those of you who didn’t present today, be prepared tomorrow!” Shouted their history teacher. His history teacher was a fun guy, the type of person to teach information really quickly and then assign a bunch of busy work and projects, just so that they aren’t done with the entire history unit in a couple of months. Alex had a lot of empty grades in the class, you might say. 

    Then, after that, he went to Bio- a class he liked even less than history. It wasn’t that the class wasn’t fun, he loved doing lab work, but everything they told him about the human body’s limitations worried him- was he pushing himself to hard? Were his legs going to just give out from under him one day, and never fix themselves? He tried to avoid the class whenever possible,

    By the time his lunch break rolled around, there was nothing Alex wanted more than to not be in school. He forced himself to go sit at the lunch table, but with every step he wished he was at home. 

    “Hey, Alex! You’re here!” Angie beamed at him, and Elizabeth smiled, too. “You’re coming to the party tonight right?”

    Alex perked up when he remembered the party. “Yeah! Sure, I wouldn’t miss a Schuyler party for the world!” His face fell. “Where are your dad and Margaret going to be?”

    Angie smiled. “Not here.” His face fell. “They’re leaving this afternoon. Marge has a field trip to this camping thing tonight, and dad is chaperoning.” 

    “Really? Great!” He spoke a little quieter now. “Is it okay if I walk Margaret home then?” Alex would be the first to admit that he didn’t spend nearly enough time with Margaret, especially since he was her only sibling by blood. Sometimes he would visit the Schuyler house on weekends, but usually the only time they spent together was walking home after the little girl got out of elementary school, ten minutes after Alex’s last class of the day, band. He would pack up his trumpet and walk along the sidewalk to the front of the school, bag slung over his shoulder, trumpet case in hand, ice cream shop money in his back pocket.

    He added " _Spend more time with Margaret_ " to his mental to-do list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is he so smol


End file.
